


Rain, maybe

by genmitsu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: Written for Gobblepot Spring 2019 eventVaguely inspired by the Spring Rain promptSet in an alternative Season 5, I guess.---Oswald offers to give Jim a lift in his car and they get stuck in a traffic jam, leaving them having totalkto each other and reveal some truths...





	Rain, maybe

 

 

“Need a lift, darling?”

Jim stares, absolutely dumbfounded, as the tinted car window rolls down slowly to reveal Oswald behind the steering wheel. Oswald looks back at him with an absolutely uncharacteristically suave grin on his face, and then he can’t keep up the pretense anymore and _giggles._

“I’m sorry, Jim, I didn’t mean to overstep - but you should’ve seen your face!” he smiles as usual, warmly. “The offer does stand, old friend, you shouldn’t walk around in this weather without an umbrella.” He leans to the passenger’s door and opens it invitingly. “Come on, don’t be shy. I’ll take you to your destination.”

Jim should decline. He shouldn’t accept favours from gangsters, even such small ones, and he shouldn’t be so glad to see this particular gangster either.

He’s also absolutely soaked from this “light spring shower” as the forecast called it, and really regrets leaving work earlier for once in his life. So maybe it’s the rain that spurs him on.

Oswald’s smile though, that cements the decision, even if Jim would deny it to his grave. He heaves a fake sigh before getting into the sleek black car and making a point of fastening his seat belt.

“So, where to, old friend?”

“Home,” Jim says, and the sigh is not fake this time. The week’s been much too long and difficult. He’s not going to close the Friedburg case soon, either. They’ve got lots of clues, a lot of evidence, but it is all circumstantial. Almost nothing to go on, and it’s especially frustrating when they have the suspect in custody already. He’s probably the perp too, he has to be, but they just can’t find the _right_ clue. Where could that fucking IOU be?.. Maybe he should’ve ordered the full sweep right away, but how could he have known then?..

They’re well on their way when Jim realizes with a start he never told Oswald his address and yet he seems to be driving him to his home nonetheless. Jim steals a glance at Oswald. Somehow he never pegged him for a competent driver, even having evidence to the contrary, quite a few chases, actually. There was something about Oswald that didn’t mesh with driving when you saw him usually, but here Jim finds himself fascinated by the way he looks behind that steering wheel. The practiced, graceful way with which he changes gears, that gloved hand of his on the shifter, the way he appears both focused and relaxed… Jim is staring before he catches himself and turns his head to look ahead.

“Is that so, Jim?”

Oswald must have asked him something - Jim completely blanked out, never catching a word.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, looking at him again - there’s an excuse now, so what.

“I was wondering whether you shun the umbrellas for their symbolic connection to me,” Oswald repeats, stealing a brief glance at Jim before focusing on the road again. There’s some lightness to his tone, something almost flirty, but it’s also a little too airy to be just a casual question. “Worried someone might take it as a sign of allegiance, old friend?”

“Aren’t you a bit too presumptuous?” Jim scoffs. “I just forgot it, that’s all.”

“Ah,” Oswald smiles, just with his lips though - and Jim could smack himself for noticing that and caring. “Glad to know I haven’t involuntarily become a detrimental influence on your health.”

Jim wants to say something then, something cutting maybe, nip this affection blooming in his chest in the bud, like he always does, but before any words like that come to the forefront of his mind, he sneezes. Loudly.

“Sorry,” he says instead, sniffling.

“Just a little bit more, Jim,” Oswald says, turning up the heating. “We’re not that far from your house.”

“How do you know where I live in the first place, anyway?” Jim asks, gruff. Oswald just quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you know where I live as well?”

“I’m a cop,” he retorts. “I have to know that.”

“Ah, and here I thought it was because we were friends, first,” Oswald says, that airy tone back again. “So enlighten me, Detective… where _do_ I live?”

“Is this a test? You want to know which address to change?”

“Au contraire, old friend. Which one to keep.”

Jim frowns. Well. Even if Oswald changes his residence, he can track him again. Nothing new here.

“Victoria Road, 13. Brick house.”

“Ah.”

The slight smile doesn’t go unnoticed for Jim, and he’s glad he opened with the address he knew was a decoy.

“Also Gambino Street, 7-23. And Milton Street, 14.”

Oswald hums at that appreciatively.

“But what you really call home is the apartment on the seventh floor of the Delilah Building on Rockwell Avenue,” Jim says, not quite looking at Oswald, but fishing for his reaction anyway. He knows that place. It’s not that far from his own. Coincidence? Maybe.

Or maybe Jim just thinks too much of himself and what he means to Oswald.

“You really are the best detective GCPD has,” Oswald says softly, and to Jim that sounds like a loving touch, a caress, and he almost wants to purr in response. He must be running a fever or something.

“I’m--“ he never gets to finish because he sneezes again.

“Really now, Jim,” Oswald gently scolds him, checking the side view mirror before changing a lane. “Just carry the damn umbrella with you. I can send you something light and portable, if you wish.”

“You don’t have to--“

“I’d rather you were alive and well, old friend.”

Oswald should really tone it down, because Jim can’t help getting _affected,_ he can’t help the warm feeling in his chest again - and they can’t have it, not really. Not the two of them. Even if Jim wants that more than he has ever wanted anything.

“Just cut the crap,” he says, rough and tense. “You don’t need to care for me. You’d be better off if you didn’t. I’m not your friend, I’m your enemy - remember that?”

The car is slowing down in the traffic and Jim is once again fascinated with that slender gloved hand pulling the shifter. He’s spent enough time imagining these hands on his cock, he really doesn’t need a visual…

“I know an enemy, Jim, and you are not it. Not mine. Never.”

“What do you know about me anyway? Friends talk - they hang out together - they have that. What do we have, you and I? I _use_ you,” he chooses this word deliberately, trying to distance himself from Oswald, push him away before it’s too late. “I use you because you’re that to me. A useful snitch.”

“A rose by any other name, Jim. You call it using, I call it helping a friend,” Oswald speaks in a calm voice. “The end result is the same. And… I do know a lot about you, Jim.”

“Yeah? Like what? Like the stuff your own snitches dug up on me?” he sneers.

“No,” the car comes to a halt and Oswald turns to face Jim. “Things you told me yourself.”

“I told you nothing!”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Jim,” Oswald reaches out to brush his fingers over Jim’s cheek, and Jim is petrified, arrested by his boldness and his touch both, the cool leather on his skin, and Oswald’s soft gaze. “You keep trying to push me away because you care. I’ve lost count how many times you were going out of your way to help me when you could’ve easily stepped aside and left me to my fate.” Oswald slides his thumb down to the corner of Jim’s mouth and Jim can’t help parting his lips, just slightly, just a little bit. “You know you’re danger - and you push me away so I’m not in the crossfire. That’s what you keep telling me, Jim.”

“I can’t convince you I’m not your friend, can I?” Jim whispers, losing himself in Oswald’s eyes.

“No, Jim,” Oswald shakes his head. “You’ll always be a friend to me.”

“I...” his throat is so dry, so dry. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“I know,” Oswald murmurs sadly and takes his hand away, leaving Jim trying to trail helplessly behind.

Oswald turns his attention back to the road, but they’re barely moving. The rain picks up again, becoming a downpour, and the traffic jam chokes their progress, cutting off all escape routes, cutting off any attempt on Jim’s part to leave that sadness unacknowledged, or to force his feelings back down again.

“You’re so smart, Oswald,” he says quietly. “Can’t you figure out what I mean?”

“I’m sorry, Jim?” Oswald turns to face him once more as the car stops again. The raindrops fall down, their shuffle mixing with the quiet purr of the engine, and it’s like the two of them are locked in a bubble, no other people, no other things exist - just them.

“I…” This is it, isn’t it? If he says that, they will change, it’s inevitable. Can he live with that? But he’s also so tired of always keeping Oswald at arm’s length when he wants him so much closer. Maybe… maybe they can make it work, somehow? They’re making a lot of things work for Gotham, can’t they have just one thing work for themselves?

“I want to be more than friends,” Jim says, watching the raindrops slide down the windshield, terribly aware of how quiet Oswald’s become. “I want you to be the first thing I see waking up and the last thing as I fall asleep. Being friends… won’t cut it for me.”

The car is stalled in the traffic but Jim’s words just keep on rushing as the rain washes away their surroundings and his doubts both.

“I’ve been such a stubborn idiot, with you. Kept denying this, kept lying to myself - what for? What was made better? I thought I couldn’t violate my principles, but turns out that I could, thinking it was for the best, thinking of the ‘greater good’. And maybe Gotham’s better for it and maybe it’s worse, and I’m still living with this. I thought that I had to be impeccable to bring justice to this city. Had to be this shining white knight. But I don’t want that anymore.”

Jim turns to Oswald, who watches him, enraptured, his pretty lips parted, and Jim can only continue. He wants Oswald to know how serious he is. That this is all true, and he’s been thinking about it for far too long.

“I want… you. I don’t know when it began. I only know that whatever comes, you’re always there for me even when I don’t deserve it. I only know that I need you, all of you, and I don’t care which of my principles get screwed by this if it makes you happy in turn. I - I’ll understand if you don’t want me anymore, I get it, I really do… I just… I don’t want to be silent about it.”

The rain keeps stuttering on the roof of the car, its sound almost going to crescendo in Jim’s ears with how tense he is after this sudden soliloquy.

“Please say something,” he pleads, unable to take Oswald’s silence any longer.

“Jim, I… I didn’t think you’d…” Oswald utters, and then he just reaches out again, firmer, desperately deliberate, and kisses him.

It’s clumsy, with them turning in their seats, seat belts restricting even that, but the kiss is everything that Jim’s ever wanted, tender and hot and needed - just as badly as Jim needs it himself.

Jim presses his lips to Oswald’s, making a sound, kissing him deeper. He’s been waiting for this, dreaming and thinking of this, and the sensations course through his body with the relentlessness of an electric current. If anything still exists except them, Jim doesn’t care. His world is focused on just one single person, and it finally feels _right,_ his world is finally making sense, but Oswald’s mouth is so warm and sweet, so tantalising, Jim can’t get enough. He unbuckles the seat belt to get closer, to finally touch Oswald, almost feverish with desire as he buries his hand in his short hair. He’s not a teen anymore, but Oswald’s soft moan at this caress goes straight to his cock.

“Jim,” Oswald murmurs, breathless, into his lips, “Jim, oh… please…”

Jim hums, unable to stop, but he really lacks the space for manoeuvre, so he distances himself, just a little bit, to look at him. Oswald is wonderfully ruffled, his pupils dilated and he’s breathing hard, off-balance in the best possible way.

“You were saying?” Jim cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Your timing is… something else, Jim,” Oswald manages to say before Jim brushes his fingers over the edge of his collar, making him swallow hard.

“Don’t like this?” Jim lightly touches Oswald’s mouth with his lips before trailing a little lower. “I could stop…”

“I do!” Oswald protests at once. “But… but we’re driving, and--”

“I look at you and I’m ravenous,” Jim cuts in. “And we’re not moving… do you want me to wait indefinitely?”

“It’s only a traffic jam…”

“So it’s not going to stop you from enjoying yourself, right?” Jim smirks and trails his hand down the front of Oswald’s shirt slowly. “We’re basically all alone here for what it’s worth…”

“Jim, you’re not subtle,” Oswald raises an eyebrow at him, amused and fully aware, it seems, of his simple strategy.

“Waited too long,” Jim says as he scoots closer and cups Oswald’s cheek again. “Thought about kissing you too often. About your cock in my mouth too,” and he kisses Oswald again, fully intent on seduction, pouring all of his pent up passions into the caress. “Don’t you want that?” he asks innocently.

“You… don’t play fair,” Oswald answers his kisses, just as passionately, his body gravitating to Jim’s as much as the seat belt allows.

“You have no idea…” Jim says, sliding his hand lower to palm Oswald’s groin and discovering, to his delight, that Oswald is undeniably hard. He presses his hand firmer, wanting to hear that moan again, and Oswald doesn’t disappoint. Jim feels almost overwhelmed by that sound, by how different it is from Oswald’s usual voice, and it doesn’t quell his desire _at all._ “Do that again,” he murmurs, cupping him through the pants.

Oswald moans for him, seemingly forgetting himself and his earlier reservations, and he bucks his hips up, pressing into Jim’s hand. Jim can’t tear his gaze away from Oswald’s face, that pretty mouth of his parting - because of him, those sublime eyes of his focused on Jim’s and getting even greener - because of him. It’s doing something to him, something he can’t subdue, doesn’t ever want to.

The next thing he knows, he’s shifting Oswald’s seat a bit further and unbuttoning his pants in a hurry, kissing him frantically as if trying to stop possible protests before they begin to form. His tie is in the way, so he tears it off and throws it to the backseat, whatever, who cares - certainly not him, not when he finally frees Oswald’s hard cock and strokes it. Oswald’s voice reverberates through the car, through Jim’s whole body, his skin feels like silk in Jim’s palm, and there’s just no way he’d be able to resist this, ever.

It’s all kinds of awkward position but Jim doesn’t care. He bends over, taking Oswald’s cock in his mouth - slowly, he forces himself to go slowly, to let Oswald _feel_ it - he encircles the head with his lips, licks it, then goes lower, lower… His mind is reeling, the taste of precum and clean skin fills his mouth, Oswald’s hand comes to rest on his neck - that glove, still in that glove, and it’s just amazing - and Jim groans at the contact and what it implies, and goes to town, taking Oswald as deep as he can, sucking him in earnest, learning all the sensitive parts of that cock by the way Oswald’s fingers tighten on his nape or the way his voice escapes through his lips despite him trying to muffle it. Jim has never blown anyone while enjoying it this much, before.

“J-Jim, I’m…” Oswald gasps, his hips bucking up, driving that cock even deeper into Jim’s mouth, that hand on his nape never letting him move away and Jim almost whimpers, feeling hotter and hotter with every second, and sucks harder, wanting that release, wanting everything he can get, every sound and every drop… He tightens his lips over the head once more, and Oswald comes for him with a low groan, spilling inside his mouth, hot and heady and perfect.

Jim lets go after, having sucked Oswald dry, and he sinks back into his seat, panting heavily. His lips feel a little sore, swollen and red after all that, and he’s still hard himself, but - but Oswald swears and tucks himself in hurriedly, and steps on that pedal, the traffic jam finally letting up and allowing them to move forward. Jim probably should feel guilty or ashamed of his earlier actions, never mind the tinted windows - they were still pretty damn visible if anyone wanted to spy - but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels languid in his seat, oddly both on edge and satisfied, as he watches Oswald maneuver the car through the lanes to their destination.

Oswald glances at him out of the corner of his eye, seemingly unaffected by Jim’s efforts save for a light blush on his cheekbones and disturbed breath. If it was anyone else, Jim would’ve, in all probability, felt offended. With Oswald though, this too feels right. He’s so graceful, Jim thinks, watching him drive. Everything about him is so fascinating - that sharp profile and attentive, attractive eyes, the way he concentrates on driving so that… oh.

For all he knows, it might have been the first experience of this kind for Oswald. Maybe he’s so withdrawn because he doesn’t really know how to react or process that. Maybe Jim’s stumped him for the first time in his life. It’s adorable.

“Jim?” Oswald says, not turning his head, and his voice sounds… slightly tense?

“Yeah?”

“Unzip your pants, please.”

Jim was not expecting _that._ He glances at Oswald, but he’s still so focused on the road, as if he doesn’t pay Jim any mind.

He gulps, complying. His cock grows harder, it seems, when Oswald steals a glance at it.

“Take it out, Jim,” Oswald says, “and stroke it for me.”

Jim flushes all over, _feeling_ how red his skin becomes at these words. He’s suddenly even more on edge, even more tense, and he does what Oswald told him to in some kind of daze. His cock is so ready, throbbing, leaking precum. Jim’s hand moves over it slowly. It’s so difficult, with Oswald glancing at him, he wants to come with those eyes on him, but, but-- Jim groans.

“How does it feel, Jim?” Oswald has the audacity to ask, as if he doesn’t notice how affected Jim is, how he can’t catch a full breath.

“Hot,” he gasps. He’s hot in more senses than the actual physical feeling, this whole situation is setting his mind on fire. Has he ever thought they’d be doing this? That he’d allow himself this, that Oswald would allow him, as well?

“Do you want me to open the window, Jim?”

By God, that voice just might undo him completely - and the possibility of that tinted window’s protection being gone is making Jim pick up the pace, make him breathe heavily, and it’s getting hotter, better, and he’s really close too--

“Stop,” Oswald’s firm command halts him. “Put your hands on your knees.”

Jim obeys. His chest is heaving, he looks debauched, no doubt, - knees spread apart, pants unzipped and his cock standing to attention like a good little soldier… big. A big soldier. Fuck.

He wants to come so bad.

Oswald shifts gears again, and then his hand moves further and grasps Jim’s cock, surely, firmly, and Jim can’t contain a moan at this, he almost shudders with it, just from Oswald’s touch. Those fingers give him a stroke up and down, tighten over him, making him gasp. He looks at Oswald, helplessly aroused out of his mind, drawn to him like by a magnet, and yet unable to move as Oswald continues touching him, as he watches him with darkened eyes and parted lips, and Jim comes, he comes as he wanted, spurting out all over that glove with a low groan in his throat. It feels like a blackout - the reality just ceases to exist. All that matters is Oswald, Oswald’s eyes on him, Oswald’s touch on him, Oswald’s satisfied awed smile…

Jim probably dozes off after, sated, warm, happy, because the next thing he remembers is startling at his phone’s ringing and frantically searching for it in his pockets.

“Yeah, Harv?” he says after finally fishing it out. Oswald glances at him, amused, and he smiles back involuntarily.

“Hey. We have a break, partner! Harper found that IOU. So get your ass back to the precinct, pronto, we’re closing that son of a bitch today!”

“Seriously?” Jim lets out a laugh. “Good job! I’m on my way.”

Oswald turns the car around at the first chance without Jim even asking him to. The road back is not that congested and they move so much faster, such a change from the snail’s crawl of earlier. Seems that Gotham doesn’t like him resting, Jim thinks, but it doesn’t mean he should drag Oswald down into it as well.

“You don’t have to go back because of me, Oswald,” Jim says, glancing at him. “Just drop me off at the subway or something.”

“It’s no bother at all, Jim,” he replies, and his voice sounds so warm and pleasant, like molten chocolate, and Jim just wants to drink it forever. Maybe he’d get a chance to? It’s not like they’re… done here, right? They’ve got to talk more, at least. And maybe continue talking. Like, in horizontal position. Or vertical, really, at this point Jim can’t bring himself to mind either way.

“Do I look okay?” he asks once Oswald drops him off half a block from the precinct. He’s tried to make sure he was presentable and that his clothes didn’t have any suspicious stains he’d be hard pressed to explain.

“You look gorgeous, Jim,” Oswald caresses him with his gaze from head to toe. “As always.”

Jim blushes to the roots of his hair. He… he’s got to build up resistance to Oswald, somehow, because those eyes, that voice, honestly, this man - he makes him feel electrified. And Harvey jokes that Jim’s married to the job but it would be very awkward to show up with a boner, not that Jim’s not excited to close the Friedburg case - it’s just a different sort of excitement, definitely.

“Will you stay there long?” Oswald asks him, making Jim focus on the present instead. “I could wait for you.”

“I can’t say for sure,” Jim shakes his head. “There’s going to be a ton of paperwork, though, so I guess you shouldn’t.” He feels awkward just rushing off to work like that. “Thanks for the offer though. And for the lift.”

“It was my pleasure, Jim.”

Ah, fuck it.

Jim leans back into the car and pulls Oswald closer to press a kiss to his lips, and another one, and another. Soft, sweet, _loving_ , and it makes it a little bit more okay to part now.

“I’ll miss you,” he says at last, and turns for the precinct. The sooner he gets started with finishing up the case, the faster he and Oswald can continue.

 

It’s way past midnight when they finish up the reports on the case. Harper and Harvey both leave before him, but Jim stays, rereading his report, reviewing the evidence and making sure everything was processed correctly. No way will he allow their hard work to go to waste because of some mistake in the papers. But everything seems to be in order on the first, second, and even third glance.

When Jim leaves the precinct at last, there’s a familiar black car waiting for him further in the street. The window rolls down again as he approaches, and he smells a whiff of good coffee.

“You forgot your tie, darling,” Oswald smiles, opening the door for him again. “I decided to bring it back.”

And this time it’s serious, it’s really serious, and that endearment is serious, and they make small talk on the way home - was there a lot to do, Jim? I didn’t expect you’d show up, but I’m glad; what were you busy with all this time? nothing illegal, I swear, I was checking out this cafe, a possible acquisition - and then they’re at Jim’s condo, and they kiss and kiss and kiss.

“Want to come upstairs with me?” Jim asks between those kisses.

They end up fucking in the backseat instead.

  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was hoping to post this story back on April 25, but work and stuff happened, so... here we are.  
> I hope you enjoyed this terribly self-indulgent story - I certainly enjoyed writing it!
> 
> As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated :)  
> You can hit me up on my [tumblr](https://lalaurelia.tumblr.com/) too, if you feel like it.


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